


The Glass Slipper

by orphan_account



Category: Cinderella 2015
Genre: Cinderella - Freeform, F/M, Family, Glass Slipper, Love, Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You haven’t heard the Tale of the Glass Slippers?” Ella proceeded to challenged, knowing that if her eldest was beside her he would groan and tell the little ones exactly what the story was about. “Everyone has heard that story.“ </p><p>"What'sth it abouth?” Marcus asked as Aenor began to suggest a plot line. </p><p>“Isn’t it about a princess who’s fairy godmother makes her a dress and glass shoes to wear to a ball so she can meet the Prince?” The little princess guessed, curiosity getting the better of her. “I heard Hettie talking about it once.” Ella blushed ever so slightly, but her darling children did not notice. </p><p>“She wasn’t a princess.” Ella responded, a secret grin on her plush lips, as she began the story she had told a thousand times over. “And he wasn’t the Prince, exactly. There was once a girl who was loved by her parents very, very much and who’s mother taught her to believe in magic.”</p><p>“Like you and Papa tell us to." </p><p>"Just so.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Glass Slipper

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the idea of the younger boy being called Marcus is not an original idea, however I liked the name, but am willing to change it if it is objectionable.

The Queen and King loved walking through the gardens throughout any season, time of day or weather state. In the early days of their marriage they had, in the few hours in which they could spend time together, payed numerous visits to their Secret Garden, ignoring any weather warnings, and as the spring rains had come and gone had many times had been forced to run, soaking wet, for shelter. Not they minded much. Now, however, it was different. Nine years had come had gone since then and they had brought three children that had brought as much, if nor more, laughter and life to the palace as their mother had. Having children hadn't changed the rulers, exactly, but they no longer took strolls (or rather runs) through the gardens in the middle of storms and were content in spending the time instead by the warm, crackling fire enjoying each others touch or listening to their children recount their days. 

On one spring day, full of happiness and sunshine, the royal couple had decided to have some quiet alone time in the gardens, reminiscing over a time when a young apprentice monarch had revealed to a mystery princess his Secret Garden and his heart. Naturally, upon hearing their parents were to take a turn about the gardens, all three children had agreed it was a splendid idea and insisted to accompany them - though Ella and Kit loved their children more than anything else the world might offer, as much as they loved each other, but alone time was very much appreciated and a family walk was not what they intended. Oh well, they had thought, but it had quickly become rather enjoyable. 

And if anyone had come upon them, they would have seen a beautiful and loving mother holding her young daughters hand, a father carrying a sleepy toddler with an immense grin on his noble face, both watching a boy, maybe a month or two over six years, walk a little ahead, fingertips brushing the leaves of the hedge as he went. Like any other family, really. Yes, the mother wore expensive materials, though they were simply styled, and the father looked as if he was raised to be watched, carrying himself with a balance of modesty and confidence, but other than that they seemed completely ordinary. 

Coming to a grassy clearing between the hedges that opened up to the water gardens at the foot of the grounds, the little four year old let go of her mothers hand and ran with surprising speed to the green bank, near knocking over her disgruntled older brother. With a confused laugh Ella's eyes followed her daughter as she threw herself to the ground, and despite her previous improper show of energy very cooly requested they sit for a while, collected despite her youth and innocence. The Queen and Kit joined the four year old on the knoll, and all save the Crown Prince who did not wish to sit. 

"Papa, can we play?" The restless child asked his father, a plaintive look on his face that could melt anyones heart.

"We're sitting down now." Kit told him with a sad sigh, mindful of the mood-swing-prone toddler that was squeezed between him and Ella. The said toddler proceeded to wriggle closer to his mother, resting a mop of golden curls in her lap with a defeated exhale of breath. "In a moment."

"Mama, could you please tell us a story?" Aenor asked, baby blue eyes as begging as her brothers, if not more so (her face was so alike to her mothers, after all). Marcus even gathered the strength to look up, curious eyes alight despite his grumpy mood. Ella smiled, smoothing back a stray curl on her youngest's head as she turned to her only daughter.

"What story shall it be today, My Darling?" She inquired, knowing that it was more likely that she would have to conjure up a story to please her daughters inquisitive mind, Aenor never forgetting a story. 

"The Tale of the Sleeping Beauty?" Ella suggested, recalling that it had been a month or two since she had told her the tale. No matter what hour either Ella or Kit said good night to their children. That usually entailed the occasional lullaby for Christopher, a story for Aenor and just to sit and listen to Marcus as he talked until he fell asleep, often mid sentence. 

"Papa told me that story last night." Aenor answered. Of course, Kit knew the story a little different from what Ella knew the story as. Ella's mother had told her of a wicked king who, to earn his crown, had stolen the wings of a faerie who he had once loved. The common story, however, was far different. 

"What of Snow White? Legend has it she's you and your fathers ancestress." The Queen urged her daughter, as Christopher poked his father. 

"Papa, can we play?" He repeated. "I counted to sixty."

"Did you, indeed?" Kit chuckled, turning to face his little son. "What do you want to play?" He watched Christopher's face change from pleading to delighted to thinking. 

"Knights!" He said at last, running off to find two sticks and Kit hauled himself to his feet, shrugging as Ella raised an eyebrow at him. 

"The Bear Queen?" 

"A thousand times over." The near four year old retorted rolling her eyes. Ella's thoughts trailed to the foot of the bank where here eldest was currently assaulting his father with a stick, though Kit was laughing as he feigned hurt. 

"Glass Slippers..." She murmured distractedly, a smiling even more as she saw her husband fake doubling over in pain. 

"What?"

"Glass Slippers?" Ella asserted, inspiration sparking. 

"You haven't heard the Tale of the Glass Slippers?" She proceeded to challenged, knowing that if Christopher was beside her he would groan and tell the little ones exactly what the story was about. "Everyone has heard that story." 

"What'sth it abouth?" Marcus asked as Aenor began to suggest a plot line. 

"Isn't it about a princess who's fairy godmother makes her a dress and glass shoes to wear to a ball so she can meet the Prince?" The little princess guessed, curiosity getting the better of her. "I heard Hettie talking about it once." Ella blushed ever so slightly, but her darling children did not notice. 

"She wasn't a princess." Ella responded, a secret grin on her plush lips, as she began the story she had told a thousand times over. "And he wasn't the Prince, exactly. There was once a girl who was loved by her parents very, very much and who's mother taught her to believe in magic."

"Like you and Papa tell us to." 

"Just so. Her mother was the most beautiful woman that ever was, but when the girl was still very young she grew ill and made her daughter promise that she would always have courage and be kind."

"Like you and Papa tell us to."

"Exactly. And then her father remarried, and this woman was not like his late wife, and no matter how kind the girl was to her and her stepsisters she was only answered with cruelty. And then when her father died." Ella's voice suddenly became drawn. "Her stepmother made the girl a servant in her own home, and she didn't know what to do. The girl needed to sleep in the attics now, and if it was too cold she would have to sleep in the kitchen beside the fire incase she froze."

"That's so mean!" Aenor gasped. "Why wouldn't she complain?"

"Because her mother had asked her to be kind and have courage, and she tried to tell herself that these women didn't mean to make her feel so terrible, because the girl couldn't understand why someone would be so harsh. And when she woke up after sleeping by the hearth one morning her face was covered in ash and cinders, and they made fun of her and called her Cinderella." Ella remembered it so well, the way her heart and dropped as the plate did and she had collapsed into sobs. "Then she rode into the forest and there was a royal hunt going on."

"Hunth?" Marcus mumbled, the imitating his mother as best he could in saying the unfamiliar word. 

"Aren't hunts when bad men chase animals to eat them?" There was so much horror in the little girls voice Ella struggled to correct her. 

"They weren't bad men." She schooled her, becoming suddenly distracted by her son's 'tackle' of his father as Kit began to tickle him under his ribs. "It was what was done, but that is beside the point. In the forest I-" Ella squirmed at her mistake. "She met an apprentice who lived at the palace and he stopped her from feeling so lost as she did before. Then, when she was visiting a friend in town, a declaration was sent out-"

"Like the one you and Papa had the heralds read out when Mar' was born?" She was a fast learner, this little princess. 

"Yes, and that declaration was an invitation to a ball for all the maidens in the land. So the girl rushed back home, hoping to see the apprentice again, and she looked out her mothers old dress and when the night of the ball arrived she came down the stairs to go to the ball with her sisters."

"Was it a pretty dress?" 

"Wasth sthe pwetty?" 

"It was a beautiful pink dress and many people had told her she looked like her mother, which meant that, yes, she was pretty too."

"Not asth pwetty as you 'though." Marcus told her, his adorable face looking to her with all the sincerity in the world.   
_

"Tag! You're it!" Christopher yelled all of a sudden between fits of giggles, hitting his fathers arm before running off. Kit allowed him a few seconds head start before chasing after the boy, laughing as he did. With a single swipe her hauled his squealing son over his shoulder as he thrashed and kicked in fits of mirth. Falling onto his back, the young king resting his prince on his chest.

"You're it." He informed him, before suddenly rolling out from under him and down the bank, collecting severe grass stains he might regret in a few hours, leaving the boy stunned in the grass. The shock didn't stop him from chasing after his father and throwing himself on top of him as the King reached the base of the hill. 

"You're it!" Kit's baby boy chortled as he raised him up in the air, and he couldn't help but want to tell him exactly everything he meant to him, what all his children meant to him, though they could never understand for years. He had been the first person in the world to hold each of his three children, had been there at the very beginning and never wanted there to be an end. He couldn't even think of that. 

"I love you, Critter." The King informed the flying boy that he was balancing on his hands and feet, using the nickname that had eventually evolved from the formal name of Christopher. And all Kit wanted was to store the following answer with all the precious others he had gathered through out his life. 

"I love you too, Papa." Christopher giggled.   
_

"And the slipper did fit and the girl and her apprentice monarch were married and had a family they loved just as much as each other." Ella concluded, just as she felt Marcus's body go limp against her, sleep overtaking his focus and Kit and Christopher reached the small group.

"What story was that?" Kit asked, placing a kiss on his wife's lips (causing his two conscious children to grimace). 

"The one about the Glass Slipper." Aenor told him matter of factly and Kit's forehead creased while Christopher did, indeed, groan. 

"It's a beautiful story." Kit defended it, taking his little girl's small hand and pulled her up, Ella gently lifting Marcus up in her arms and leaning on her husband to stand. As the small family eventually made there way back indoors, however, Aenor pulled her mother aside, a curious glimmer in her eye. 

"Mama, you have glass slippers don't you?"


End file.
